


Advent: Yesterday

by FyrMaiden



Series: Klaine Advent 2015 [24]
Category: Glee
Genre: Barebacking, Blowjobs, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:11:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrMaiden/pseuds/FyrMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine and Kurt reconnect in an anonymous hotel room, after missing their chance once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advent: Yesterday

Blaine doesn’t think about the past when Kurt takes his hand and leads him through the bar to the elevator, doesn’t think about the hours spanning endless behind them when Kurt takes the initiative and pins him against the mirror wall with his body, when his fingers tug at the bright silk of his bowtie and his mouth presses wet and warm to his pulse. He doesn’t think about the days they could have had, or the broken promises, only of the present and the weight of Kurt’s body hard against him, and the way his hands are insistent when they tangle in his own and drag him across carpeted floors to an anonymous door.

“I’ve thought of you,” Kurt says, his voice breathy and desperate, “Wondered what happened to you.” He peppers his words with kisses, blind and wanting, and Blaine tries to assemble his thoughts, tries to read his lips when his ears refuse to hear anything that isn’t the hammer of his own heart, but all he really wants to do is feel Kurt’s mouth against his own again, to feel the reality of him, firm and strong and fully grown. He doesn’t say anything at all, only stares at Kurt with all the longing of fifteen years, and Kurt pulls him through the open door by the ends of his tie.

There was a time when the setting would have mattered, when Blaine would have cared that the paintings on the walls are as bland as the magnolia paint behind them. He would have cared about cheap cotton and the audible rustle of cheap sheets when he hits them. There was a time when he would have wanted everything to be perfect, to be the way he’d thought they had to be to be perfect, but that time passed with his first dorm room, with his first boyfriend, and with his first stint in therapy. He’s learned that perfection is a state of being. All he needs to be is here, now, for it to be everything he’d wanted once, and thought he’d left behind. 

These hotel sheets are rough when he hits them, and the pillows thin, and it’s everything he expects of a budget hotel on the outskirts of Lima but he’s here and Kurt Hummel is here, and Kurt isn’t the boy he’d fantasised about once, not anymore. This Kurt is taller, broader, his skin flawless and his eyes piercing, and Blaine wants with a hunger he hasn’t felt in years. His hands reach up to cup Kurt’s face, to draw him down, to kiss him back with the same fierceness he’d felt in the parking lot of the Lima Bean two hours ago, and in the car, and in the lobby. He wants with an animalistic need that almost scares him in its intensity, and probably would if he hadn’t lived with it for over a decade.

“I looked for you,” Kurt whispers into his mouth. “I tried to find you,” pressed into his jaw and his throat. “I hoped you’d got out of this town,” directly into his ear, and he can’t stifle the groan that escapes him as Kurt’s hands shove deep into his hair, cracking through the hold of his gel and the sweep of his hair, tangling deep in the roots and tugging with an abandon that shudders down his spine. 

“I did,” he says, gasps, exhales, his own hands tugging at the back of Kurt’s shirt, reaching for skin buried beneath too many layers of fabric. His eyes flicker open to find the blue of Kurt’s boring into him. “I did, and I came back - I -” He doesn’t know how to say that he came back because he thought - hoped, perhaps - that Kurt would know how to find him here. Maybe. One day. It doesn’t seem important anyway, not when Kurt sits back and shrugs his jacket from his shoulders, unbuttons his shirt quickly and loses that over the side of the bed as well. Kurt is - Kurt is different. Grown up. His shoulders are strong, his chest defined, his waist small, and Blaine moans as the desire to bite each part of him surges in his chest.

“I looked you up,” Kurt says, hauling himself away from Blaine to shuck the last of his clothing. Blaine takes the opportunity to tug his own polo shirt off, to lose his own jeans and socks and shoes. “I found you on Facebook, and considered adding you, and I -”

“You should have,” Blaine says, but it’s not important. Here and now is important, not the things they didn’t do and never said. “But it’s -”

“You’re so beautiful,” Kurt says, cutting him of. “I should have told you.” 

Blaine feels it warm beneath his skin, settling in the cracks in his heart that have been wide open since the common room and Kurt singing an aria for a dead bird. He should have said it himself, a thousand years ago, but - it was harder, then, to make his mouth say the words. Being Kurt’s friend had been so important, and he’d wasted so much time. 

Tonight is not for regrets, though. It’s not for the past. It’s for the infinite future, and he’s standing in a room with a man he’s loved in the abstract for as long as he’s known him. The reason for every stalled relationship. He’s loved, and he’s been loved, and he’s given his heart in wholes to whoever has been deserving of it, but every single relationship has floundered on the rocks of one inevitable truth. In his heart, he’s waiting for the one man he may never have been able to have, and who is here, now, hard and real and tangible, in dove grey boxer briefs, with his hair as tall as Blaine remembers. He doesn’t realise he’s crying until Kur’s thumbs wipe away his tears. 

“Hey,” he says, and Blaine blinks back the film, flicks on a smile. “You with me?”

Blaine nods, and kisses him, and touches his face with reverent hands. “I’m with you,” he nods, and moves his lips to Kurt’s cheek and his throat, and slowly down his chest, and his stomach, tugs his underpants down without ceremony. He’s dreamt of this, wanted it for so long, and now he doesn’t mean to let it slip away again. He presses his lips to Kurt’s pubic bone and his tongue to his cock, tastes him with the same earnest honesty he’s applied to every part of his relationship with him, draws him deep into his mouth with the practice of a decade and groans when Kurt’s hands tangle in his hair again. 

Blowing Kurt is quick and dirty, and Blaine relishes the ache in his knees and the trust of Kurt’s hips and the speed that implies Kurt’s waited for this as well, the way he promises they’ll find their rhythm, the way it implies that there’s a time after this, and after that. He closes his eyes and lets Kurt fuck into his mouth, focuses on him on his tongue and overwhelming his senses, and - when Kurt says he’s close, he’s going to come - grips his ass and doesn’t let go. It’s stupid, and part of him knows it, but he’s waited and wanted and for all the world, this is their first time and he trusts Kurt, as stupid as that might be, he trusts him. 

When it’s over, Kurt pulls him up and leads him back to the bed, with its rough sheets and horrible pillows, and lays him out on it like he’s a work of art. He looks at him like perhaps he is, traces the planes of his body with hands that feel like worship. He kisses the concave of his stomach, and the curve of his waist, the hollow of his throat and the hinge of his jaw, and works his way back down, to his hips and obliques and the inside of his thighs, before taking him into his own mouth, holding down his hips as he sucks him off. 

In the calm that follows, Blaine says, “I wanted it to be you.” Kurt doesn’t speak for a long moment, stretching thin in the dark, and Blaine starts to panic. His heart seems to fail between one beat and the next, hanging eternal between one moment and another.

And then he says, “It’s always been you.” 

Blaine feels his heart start to beat again, and, when he cries, the tears are full of joy.


End file.
